The Queen, and her subjects.

“…I am a state level athlete Sharma Ji! I can either win or lose…a consolation prize does nothing for me…”

Telling stories is probably the most fulfilling, exhilarating feeling there is. Every performer tells a story – some use notes and lyrics, some use the stage, and others do it on screen. And to do it over a span of two hours is nothing short of daunting. Mind you, it is easy – if you compromise with layers you’ve built up for yourself, or the veracity of the character you are portraying. But to hold your own and not waver, especially in a double role, is quite a feat. Bollywood has seen the coming of age of a number of actresses, the vast majority of whom are former supermodels – ones who made their debut by looking good first, and learning how to act later. There are probably just a couple who did the reverse, and Kangana Ranaut happens to be one of them. Put her in a million dollar gown and ask her to sashay down a ramp for a fundraiser and she will pull it off, but with not as much panache as a Deepika would. But tell her to do the same, this time for the camera, and she will put the Claudia Schiffers and Sara Jane Dias-es of this world to shame. Such is the prowess this artist had displayed a while back in “Fashion”. With “Queen”, she established herself as a leading lady that Bollywood had been craving for a long time, one who commands the screen with her soul and not her face and figure. With “Tanu Weds Manu Returns”, she slips into the category of “potential greats”, with seemingly effortless ease.

Meanwhile, before we focus on her, the film deserves a few words of praise. Anand L Rai has proven his knack for portraying simplistic detail with his previous films, and with a cast boasting of Deepak Dobriyal, Madhavan and Rajesh Sharma, he could scarcely have gone wrong once equipped with a good screenplay. For starters, the sequel is an improvement upon the first instalment, which is usually a rare occurrence in any series. Unlike the prequel, this one hits the ground running, with Manu Sharma’s incarceration at a mental asylum in London, a diffident man driven to extreme anger by the vicissitudes of married life. From then on, the film paces up and maintains the pace. There are barely any dull moments, the dialogue is crisp and compact, the dialect staying very true to the Kanpur-Lucknow gharana of Hindi. Deepak Dobriyal is an instant hit, with commendable comic timing and dialogue delivery, though the temptation to overdo does get the better of him very often. Rajesh Sharma, Eijaz Khan and the rest of the predominantly theatre trained supporting cast blend seamlessly into the roles assigned to them. After an exhilarating, (never mind a little too dramatic!), first half, the audience is left craving for a second half and satisfactory denouement. This, however, turns out to be a bit of a dampener as the film drags and drifts into the territory of melodrama. Which brings us to Kangana yet again.

She shines like a thousand splendid suns. She flits between roles as easily as a chameleon changing colour between branch and leaf. She leaves us mesmerised at the selfless innocence of the young Kusum and blows us away with her Haryanavi Jat accent. Never (and I can’t repeat the word with more frequency or vehemence) is the audience shown even a slight passing hint of the two characters being played by the same person. She carries the film on her able shoulders, making up for a slightly lacklustre Madhavan, and decks it up with her immeasurable talent. She is one of the very few actresses who can bare their souls for the camera and pose utterly naked without shame. Her eyes speak volumes, her tears ream open audiences’ hearts and her smile brings something akin to relief. As Kusum, even the dances she features in are drastically different than the ones featuring Tanuja Trivedi.

I left the hall with a content heart, my weekly need of cinematic entertainment had been satisfied. But a part of me was left with the unfortunate Kusum, a part of me wanted to sit with her and talk to her, be a friend after the celebrations had been over and done with. That part of me tells me she is real. And that’s how you know she is the reigning Queen of Indian cinema, a legend in making.

The coming of age of an actress with herculean talent.